


Crowley’s Cheeky Christmas Holiday

by White Queen Writes (fhartz91)



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Ass to Mouth, Don't copy to another site, Established Relationship, Fluff, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Lovers, M/M, Post-Canon, Romance, some naked canoodling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-18 06:28:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29113788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fhartz91/pseuds/White%20Queen%20Writes
Summary: Aziraphale is not too thrilled with the plans Crowley has made for their first real holiday. But after a little interactive explanation, Aziraphale is more than onboard.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 46





	Crowley’s Cheeky Christmas Holiday

"Ho-ho-ho!" Crowley chuckles, practically skipping his way through the master bedroom.

"Hmm. Someone seems awfully proud of themselves," Aziraphale notes dryly.

“I am, angel. I am."

"Please. Elaborate. Don't keep me in suspense."

"All right. I just confirmed our flight for tomorrow,” Crowley announces, slipping off his robe to join his husband reading in bed. “Flight 344, leaving promptly at noon.” He claps his hands, beyond thrilled that they’re finally going on their first official holiday as husbands (aside from their honeymoon, which, to Crowley, belongs in a separate category). “So, tell me, angel - are you excited to see Verwöhnhotel Kristall?”

“I suppose,” Aziraphale says, followed by a long, drawn-out sigh as he turns to the next page, less than enthused.

“You _suppose_?” Crowley cocks a thin brow at him. “Oh, don’t tell me you’ve changed your mind? You just want to stay at home with your books and read? We decided that we would travel now that we’re both gainfully _un_ employed! We made that decision _together_!” 

“It’s not that, my dear,” Aziraphale assures him with eyes still firmly planted on his book. “It’s just that I’ve been to Austria.”

“We’ve been to everywhere, angel. There’s no avoiding going somewhere again.”

“Austria is a hop, skip, and a jump from here. Spending our Christmas holiday there …" Another sigh "... we might as well find a hotel down the road and book a room.”

Crowley stares at Aziraphale, lost for a response. But then he snickers madly. Aziraphale finally lifts his eyes from his page.

“What? What did I say that’s so funny?”

“Nothing.” Crowley waves his laughter away. “You're being such a snob about this. I _adore_ it.”

Aziraphale gasps. “I am not! I simply thought that if we are going on a holiday over Christmas, a traditionally cold and bleary time, that we could perhaps visit somewhere warm and sunny.”

“I’m sure the sun is going to make an appearance while we’re in Austria. The damned thing isn’t going anywhere ... _yet._ ”

Aziraphale rolls his eyes at how thoroughly his husband missed the point. “It’s still going to be _cold_. Tremendously cold.”

“You have a coat and scarf. It’s going to be brilliant, Aziraphale!" Crowley declares in response to his husband's huff. "I have it all planned out. Could you please trust me?”

"Trust you? Since you haven’t divulged any of your plans, I maintain my right to judge.”

“I wanted it to be a surprise, but alrighty then. Have it your way.” Instead of sliding under the comforter with Aziraphale, Crowley pulls it off Aziraphale’s legs with a dramatic flourish. 

Aziraphale gapes at him. “What on Earth are you doing!?” 

“Since you’re so eager to judge, I’m going to go over our travel plans with you.”

“And you took off the covers why? To simulate the frigid temperatures?”

“Haha, no. I need you to lay flat on your stomach.”

The incredulity on Aziraphale's face grows to epic proportions. “Whatever for?”

“It’s sort of a presentation. You’ll understand once we get started.”

Aziraphale sets his book aside with a third, heavier sigh and complies. “Will you be requiring a _wahoo_ afterward?”

“I might,” Crowley snaps, impatiently returning his husband’s snark with more snark. Because of that, Aziraphale takes his sweet time settling onto his stomach on the bed, dragging a pillow with him to rest his crossed arms upon, and then his chin.

“All right. I am in the proper position, I trust.”

“Yes, but you’re a wee bit overdressed.” Crowley raises a hand to Aziraphale’s view. “Do you mind?”

“Do you mean to undress me?”

“Yes.”

“Is this absolutely necessary?”

“Yes.”

“Fine. Go ahead.”

“Wonderful.” Crowley snaps his fingers, and immediately Aziraphale is naked. He shudders self-consciously at the removal of his clothes but focuses on his husband instead, admittedly curious. “Okay.” Crowley rubs his hands together, warming them up before he begins. “First, I am taking you ice skating …”

“What a visionary,” Aziraphale teases. “We live in _London_. There are skating rinks a mere bus ride away. Why do we have to travel to Austria to go ice skating when we---?” Aziraphale’s voice cuts out when he feels his husband’s fingertips play over his shoulders, sliding in unison, mimicking the movements of two people skating. “O-oh ...” Aziraphale shivers beneath Crowley’s gentle touch. “This is an _interactive_ presentation.”

“A-ha.”

“I see. What else is on your itinerary?”

“Skiing.”

Aziraphale wiggles as Crowley’s fingers slide down the slope of his spine, slaloming from flank to flank before launching off the end of his tailbone.

“Mmm, yes, yes,” Aziraphale says. “I can see the appeal. Anything else?”

“Snowboarding.”

Aziraphale snorts. “Right--- _eee_!” He squeals when one of Crowley’s phalange snowboarders glides over a particularly ticklish spot on his back. “Since when have you wanted to go _snowboarding_?”

“Not until recently. I figure, after everything we’ve been through over the past few centuries, now is the perfect time to try something new. What d'you think?”

“Have you not known me for 6000 years? I am not an angel made for snowboarding.”

“Why not?” Crowley pouts, sending his snowboarders up Aziraphale’s back for the return trip. “Don’t angels Segway around Heaven?”

“Not me. Not once.”

“Aren’t you in the mood for an adventure?”

“If by adventure you mean eat at a new experimental fusion restaurant, then yes. I am definitely in the mood. But trusting life and limb to a thin plank of wood whilst careening down an icy hill at a hundred miles per hour, then no. I am in no mood for adventure.”

“But you’ll go skiing?”

“Yes.”

“How is that different?”

“First off, I have been skiing before. Cross-country mainly.”

“Skis are technically thin planks of wood.”

“Yes, but they give you two - one for each foot. So, it’s much more like skating. Even more like walking if you’re traveling straight along.”

“I see your point.” Crowley stops one snowboarder on Aziraphale’s right shoulder while the other tumbles to the mattress like he’s falling from a cliff.

“Crowley! How could you?” Aziraphale cries in mock horror, staring at the pair of fingers he assumes represent him lying unconscious in the snow. “You didn’t even try to stop me!”

“I did, angel. I could only save one of us, so I made the ultimate sacrifice.”

“That’s very noble of you,” Aziraphale says with a solemn sniff. “What's next? I mean, after I fetch a strapping young gentleman to fish you out of the snow and I miracle your broken legs back together.”

“Funny. You’re very funny.” Crowley crawls down the bed, straddles Aziraphale’s legs. “After all that physical exertion, we’ll want to get some lunch.”

“Sounds logical.” Aziraphale closes his eyes when Crowley’s lips brush the knobs of his spine, laying a trail of kisses along the curve of his back. “Mmm … my vote is for crepes smothered in loganberries and fresh cream.”

“I thought you might,” Crowley murmurs.

“Did you have something specific in mind?”

“Dunno. Thought maybe we could grab some ice cream,” Crowley mumbles, massaging Aziraphale’s arse, kneading with firm hands, and admiring the view.

“Ice cream?” Aziraphale scoffs. “In winter? Why would you want to eat freezing cold ice cream surrounded by all that snow---oh! My … goodness!” He yelps when Crowley’s hands part his cheeks, and a silky hot tongue begins lapping at his hole. “Yes! Yes, I see! Ice cream! Ice cream does sound fabulous, come to think of it! We can eat as much ice cream as you want!”

“So …” Crowley pauses to talk, toying with Aziraphale’s entrance with swipes of his tongue and barely-there kisses between words “… how are you … feeling about … Austria now?”

“I …” Aziraphale’s breath catches when Crowley’s tongue interrupts him, slowly circling, weeding its way inside. “I think … this may turn out to be … the best holiday … ever!”

“Can I get a wahoo?” Crowley says, then nothing else as he fucks his husband with his tongue.

“Uh … uh …” Aziraphale swallows hard, melting into the chilly sheets beneath him. “Wahoo …”


End file.
